


When Victor Met Simon

by Aquila (TytusandAquila_2)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Humor, IDK what happens until i write it, M/M, Original Character(s), Other, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-04 06:16:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14586789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TytusandAquila_2/pseuds/Aquila
Summary: When Victor Met Simon everything was fine, except, you know, I'm in love with Victor and I've been his best friend for 20 years. Still, everything was fine. Until it wasn't anymore.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, if you're reading this, YAY! Also fair warning, I don't know what happens in this story until I write it. I just have the basicest of basic outlines and updates are probably not going to be regular.

Victor is… well, Victor is really _really_ drunk. And dancing. I really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. The poor man drowns his lonely sorrows in rum and coke until midnight and vodka until dawn. Still, I can’t help but be fond of the guy. I just need to get him away from that pole and home to bed.

He _was_ a dazzling vision of happiness. The perfect gentleman, swimming in ladies’ invites and, between you and me, a few men’s. Bisexual is bisexual after all, even if he used more private about those encounters what with his devoutly Gay-Hating Christian parents. But either way, ever since he grew into his everything (he was horribly gangly and uncoordinated as a kid), especially his weird-ass teal eyes and his new haircut, shaved on one side so his black hair flopped over one eye, he was nearly never alone. Single, yes but never alone. Not that he ever looked my way… I’m not bitter, but it would have been nice. I’ve only been his friend for twenty years and in love with him for ten. 

But no, I’m not bitter.

Anyway, back to my point, Victor is drunk, dancing and singing songs about heartbreak so hideously off-key that I’m pretty sure the guy two seats over is about to stop him…by forcefully removing his vocal chords. Yep; Tall, Dark and Definitely Deadly’s hand twitched, time to go. Dragging Victor out of the bar after paying for what ended up being another bank-breaking evening (Dammit Victor!) we hop in a taxi and head to his apartment. 

I honestly hate how Victor is now, broken and wondering why _he_ isn’t the one dragging Victor home, why _he_ isn’t the one tucking Vic in bed. When he falls asleep I find myself indulging in a guilty pleasure of mine. Sitting on the edge of his bed, the one he used to share with the same piece of shit that left him like this, I tenderly brush the hair out of his eyes and whisper all the things I’d normally never say. All the ‘I love you’s’ and ‘forever’s’ and ‘always’ that I’ll probably never tell him. All the reasons my one-night stands are one-night stands and all the reasons I’ve never had a boyfriend who lasted more than a month. 

It’s something I started after about the third time I carried him home but back then my shirt still came up soaked with tears and Victor was in worse shape then now. Whispering a last “I love you,” I leave and walk a few blocks to my apartment remembering how we got here. It was months ago when it all started. When Victor came to me and celebrated because he’d finally found the love of his life, he was certain. Months ago, when I smiled wider than I could and died a little inside and broke my own heart because Victor was so happy, and _he_ was so _good_. 

It was months ago when Victor met Simon.

But it was weeks ago when Simon broke Victor.


	2. 1 - The Artist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! I updated in a reasonable time! I reworked some of the Prologue to improve it a bit so you may want to read that again first. Otherwise, enjoy!

“Ellie!” Victor sang out my nickname one day, a diminutive I had been unable to shake since the day he sat beside me and declared us best friends because he was lonely, and I was “quirky in the kind of way that makes me want to get inside your head,” as he came jogging up to me in the park at the end of my street. We used to go there for hours; I would sketch while Victor babbled about everything on his mind. I swear he had a ten-minute rant about apples one time. I break from my brief reverie in time to catch his running hug, a common occurrence between us, ever since we were kids. 

“Ellie! Ellie, you’ll never guess! Ellie, I met someone!” Of course, I imagined already knew this. Victor had always met someone, being so sociable and so incredibly gorgeous that people threw themselves at him in a way I, within the confines of my mind and journal, despised. But the way he said the word someone with a spark in his eyes I had never seen before gave me pause. 

“Hey Vicky, how was your day? Mine was great, thanks for asking,” I snarked, relying, as is typical of me, on my particular brand of sarcasm instead of acknowledging that terrifying spark I was trying so hard to convince myself I had imagined.

“Oh, sorry, El,” he kissed me on the cheek and linked our arms as we continued walking through the park. Autumn was quickly passing us by and I had come out to sketch the last golden leaves as they withered on the ground. “Come out to sketch?”

“Yeah, its almost time for Winter so I thought I’d get the last few leaves in.”

“Oh, can I see?” He looked up at me through his eyelashes and fringe and I clenched my hand tightly to resist sweeping his hair away from his eyes. 

“Don’t beg, Vic, you know I’ll let you see,” I replied, as I rolled my eyes and turned to my satchel to hide the faint blush on my cheeks. It was a practiced move. I had, after all, been hiding my blushes and heart-eyes from this beautiful man for nearly decade now.

“I know!” Vic said arrogantly, grinning broadly at me. We sat down at one of the park benches along the path and Vic turned through my sketchbook, smiling at my old sketches, all of which he had already seen, before finding my new set. Victor let out a small oh sound, gently leafing through the day’s sketches and hovered his fingers just above the page as though he could imagine the texture of the leaves through the paper. “Oh! They’re gorgeous, Ellie!”

I couldn’t hide my blush this time, “Vic, you say that every time! They’re not that good. But thank you,” I added, noticing him brandish a small but powerful frown that seems to pop up every time I let my inner self-deprecation become externalised.

“Well, its true. You’re so great at this. I wish I knew half of what you know about art…” Victor trailed off after flipping over the page. “Oh Ellie…” It was a drawing of the area by sunrise, as the light just began to filter through the trees when there were still a few far between stars in the sky. 

“I got here pretty early and there was this little girl playing in the leaves already,” I explained, indicating a little girl carefully drawn amid rolling in a pile of leaves. “She looked so happy despite the early morning, so I asked her mother for permission and went with it. It just happened that as I started, the sun started to rise. Perfect really but I’m not sure about some of the shading and I think her eyes are…” I was cut off when Victor grabbed me in a hug I’m sure I enjoyed entirely too much for two friends.

“Elliot Matthew Hades, it is perfect! You are so talented.” I carefully avoided his eyes as he backed away. 

“You can have it if you like it that much,” I offered, getting ready to remove the page.

“No! Of course not. That one definitely has to go in your portfolio!” he insisted.

My portfolio was a collection of the best works I’d ever done and funnily enough included a few portraits of Victor, himself. It was my ticket into art school, or anything art related really. Anything that would get me out of my dead-end job at the local Greek yoghurt shop.

“You think so? Ok, portfolio it is.” If I’m honest, which I usually try to be, at least with myself, I probably wouldn’t have anything in my portfolio if it weren’t for Victor. I have a serious self-confidence problem, a not-so-great school and home life will do that to a person. I’d never have gotten anywhere without Victor to kick my ass into gear. It was getting better but I still don’t think I’ll ever stop needing Victor. “So, you met someone?” I reminded Victor, getting back the conversation we had started with.

“Hm? Oh yeah. This is Simon!” he said pulling up a picture on his phone. The man, Simon, apparently, has blond hair pushed back into a ponytail that just reached broad shoulders, with brown eyes and a laughing smile on his angular face. To me, he didn’t look like much, just another pretty face Victor might try to pick up at a bar. To Victor, however, it appeared to be a different story. “Isn’t he great? He’s so nice and so hot. We met last week at Night-Fox, that club in the Valley and hit it off immediately and I was like ‘I’m going to one night stand this guy so hard’ but he turned out to be so great and we just talked at the bar all night. He gave me his number and we’ve texting ever since and today he asked me out. Can you believe it, me on an actual date?”

“Sounds like you’re pretty far gone for him.”

“Oh, El, I am definitely far gone for him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, not even Sophie and she was the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”

“Vic, that lasted two months and it wasn’t a relationship, it was booty calls and coffee,” I pointed out.

He shrugged in a way that could almost be mistaken for bashful except for the playful tilt to his eyes. “Fair enough. Do you-do you think I can do this whole relationship thing?” My heart stuttered at the vulnerable look in his eyes and I was reminded that despite never being alone, sometimes, Victor has admitted to me how lonely he could be. “Its just that I really like him. I know it’s only been a week, but I already get that feeling when he messages me, you know the one. I smile, and my chest gets all tight and I just can’t breathe for a second.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling. And I’m sure you’ll be great, Vic. I’m…” I paused and allowed my heart a moment to break. 

I had known it would happen eventually. Eventually, Victor would meet someone and fall in love and I would… I would do what? I would blister my feet running from the pain. I would cry my eyes out in darkened rooms to make sure he never sees. I would shatter myself just to stay beside him forever while he stood shoulder to shoulder with me and hand in hand with another. 

I cleared my throat, feigning a cough to cover the pause I was sure had been too long. “I’m happy for you, Vicky.” I was. “But when do I get to meet this Simon character?” I teased, trying to return the playful atmosphere I missed from before my internal crisis.

“Oh, he wants to meet you too actually!” Victor answered, seemingly oblivious to my distress (Thank Goodness!) and genuinely excited in my interest. “So, I thought we could all have dinner at your place and you could cook? You make the best corned beef.” I was sceptical, and told him so but ultimately gave in. Which is how I ended up with the only person I’ve ever loved and the only person they’ve ever loved in my apartment eating corned beef and mashed potatoes and playing video games until three in the morning. 

It was… an interesting evening, to say the least.


	3. 2 - When Elliot Met Simon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A week later it's time for dinner at Elliot's. God's give him strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay. Like I said, these happen when they happen.

I was nervous. Actually, I was jealous, but I’d decided to ignore that in favour of the tightly wound bundle of energy in my chest that just about had me bouncing off the kitchen cabinets as I performed my little cooking ritual. When I say performed, I mean performed. Cooking is something I like to do alone, mainly because the last time I cooked with someone else, aka my mother, they shouted at me because I was singing and dancing around the kitchen and getting in her way. I love cooking, singing and dancing almost as much as I love my art. 

So, it was while I was singing loudly to Check Yes Juliet by We the Kings and dancing as I mashed potatoes that Victor let himself into my apartment accompanied by Simon. Great first impression for me to make, I know.

By the time I noticed they were there, Victor was nearly on the floor because he was laughing so hard while Simon just looked confused, until he promptly burst into giggles at the sight of me exclaiming, “Oh fuck!” and hitting my head on the extractor for the stove. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up Vicky. Maybe I should tell Simon about that time in fifth grade when…” 

Victor cut me off with a hand over my mouth and a playful glare. “Don’t you dare! Besides that, was entirely your fault and you know it.” He smiled and threw his arms around me. “Missed you El!” he sung in my ear.

Careful to control my breathing as I hid my burning face in his shoulder, I replied, “You saw me yesterday, dumbass,” just as playful, and pushed him away before my body reacted in ways he really didn’t need to know about. “Now, aren’t you forgetting something?” I reminded as I raised my eyebrow pointedly and gestured to the man awkwardly shuffling his feet in the kitchen doorway.

“Oh, right.” Victor retreated to a smiling Simon’s side and if I noticed something off in Simon’s gaze, I ignored it, too caught up in my own heart. A heart which had just died a little more, a feat I had imagined was impossible, as Victor took Simon’s hand, still smiling his perfect little smile. “Elliot Hades, this is Simon Patrick-King. Simon, this is my best friend, Elliot or El or Ellie but I think only I can get away with calling him that to be honest.” As Victor introduced us, I took Simon’s hand for a firm shake and allowed myself a moment to assess this new fixture in my life.

He seemed kind, much the same as his photograph although in person the laugh-lines around his forehead and mouth were much more pronounced. Unable to meet his eyes without giving away the defeat in my own, my observations ended at his modest but clearly better than my own clothing. That jacket was genuine leather along with those shoes and I was fairly certain I had seen that shirt in the window of Calvin Klein one time. I may have been biased, but he still wasn’t much in my opinion. Hint: I should have met his eyes. 

“A pleasure. Don’t believe a word Vicky says, I beg you. He’s a right piece of work sometimes,” I joked, grinning as I released Simon’s hand.

“So, I’m gathering,” Simon replied, a small smile on gracing his lips, “but I reckon I can keep up. After all, can’t be that bad if you’ve stuck around for, what was it Vic, twenty years?” It came out fine, except for the end, where his words sounded like he was throwing knives and I realised how many times over the years people have looked at me sadly; how people have looked at me and said how sorry they were with their eyes. I’m obvious to everyone except Victor. A blessing and a curse.

“Well, I don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” I said with a slightly forced smile, glad that Victor had decided that music was in order and was flipping through my record collection. “Has he told you how we became friends?” I asked in attempt to change the topic and lighten the mood.

“Not yet.”

“It’s a great story but I can’t really tell it on my own. Oi Vicky!” Victor turned and came back to the kitchen from where he had finally decided on the Pretty Odd album by Panic! At The Disco. “Give me a hand here. Take this and this to the table,” I order, handing him the mashed potatoes and a serving spoon. Simon stood to help, but I quickly waved him over to the already set table, citing his guest status. When Victor loudly complained that he still had to help, I reminded him that he was neither a guest nor new to my apartment and thus did not count.

“Fiiiine,” Victor huffed as he carried the white sauce to the table, the twitch of his lips betraying his frown. 

“Come on, Vicky. Anyway,” I began as we finally sat down to eat, “I know how you guys met but Simon, here, hasn’t been told about us Vic. How could you?” I teased Victor, playing the part of the betrayed friend until Victor snorted and burst out in giggles. The man was too Perfect.

“You know we tell it better together Ellie.”

“I know. You start though.”

Victor and I started our little story, Simon listening in and asking questions here and there. It was nice, and for a little while, lost in memories of when it was just us, it didn’t hurt quite so much to see Victor smile at Simon, or the moments when Simon touched Victor like they’d known each other forever. Of course, it had to end, it would end, but in the moment, I was content with knowing that Simon might hear this story, but he would probably never understand the ‘bond’ between Victor and me.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{WVMS}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

I met Victor around twenty years ago when we had both just turned six and I was standing alone at my foster-sister’s friend’s eighth birthday party. At the time, my now ginger hair had just taken on a strawberry-blonde tint that made it look pink in direct sunlight. I was an angry child, bumped around from foster home to foster home and looking for any excuse to lash out at someone. This was my third home in a year already. Things weren’t looking up. So, I stayed out of the party, determined not to make friends, and stuck in the loneliest corner I could find with a scowl on my face, which because of my age, came out more like a sulky pout. 

Watching the rest of the children play, I noticed another boy, the only other one there, give me a small wave as he caught my eye. I looked away, frowning but when I glanced back, curious, the boy was gone. I decided to forget him, and mostly did until about an hour later when he sat next to me and started chatting my ear off about anything and everything. He talked about the prettiest girl at the party, about how he wanted a tiara too, but his _Mama_ said no, about home and school and anything he could think of. He was midway through talking about learning to write the alphabet when I stopped him.

“Why are you talking to me?” I asked, frustrated but in awe of this boy who had showed up and talked like he never needed anything except someone to listen. I was right, I would figure out a few years down the line, that was all he wanted. 

He blinked, shrugged and promptly stated, “You’re weird, but in a good way, like, you make me want to get inside your head. Plus, I’m lonely, you’re quiet and I like talking to people,” before returning to his one-sided conversation.

Eventually the party ended, and we went our separate ways. During the hours we spent together I opened up, letting Victor under my skin until we were friends. Weeks turned us into best friends. Months turned us into all we’d ever need. Every time I moved foster homes, Victor would always stay by me, promising to visit and keep in touch. Then we were sixteen. I came out to Victor and Victor came out to me and we were so happy, and I realised, one sleepless night, that I had dedicated ten years of my life to this silly, off-the-walls boy I met at a birthday party for someone entirely apart from us and that I was gladly going to dedicate myself to them for my whole life.

Victor had weaselled his way into my heart, settled down and gone to sleep and I prayed every day that he wouldn’t wake up and realise what a mistake he made, spending his time on me.

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{WVMS}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

Eventually, after Victor begged and pleaded for a while, I pulled out a bottle of wine, set up the Wii and put in Mario Kart for the three of us. I proceeded to destroy the competition, mainly because Victor can’t play to save his life, having wasted his video gaming prowess on first person shooters, and because Simon had never played before. We played until it was three in the morning, until Victor fell asleep and his head fell against Simon’s arm, legs thrown over mine. 

Simon whispered, “I don’t want to wake him, but we came on my motorbike.” 

I snarked internally, Of course he has a motorbike, before replying, “That’s ok. Leave him here and I’ll set him up in my guest room. He has a bunch of clothes stashed here for this sort of thing, so he’ll be fine. Can you lift him though?”

“Sure,” he whispered back, lifting Victor into his arms and following my vague direction to the guest room before slipping back to the living area. “Thanks Elliot. I’ll get going.”

“Alright, drive safe.” I shook his hand, handed him his coat and locked the door behind him. For a moment I felt relieved that he was no longer in my house before the guilt crept in. I had no right to be relieved. I had chosen this path, chosen not to tell Victor about my feelings. I crept back to the guest room and checked on Victor, smiling at his sleeping form before heading reluctantly to bed. As I lay there collecting my broken thoughts, I wondered when I had concluded that I would only ever love Victor from afar, contenting myself with stolen moments and smiles that didn’t belong to me. I sighed and drifted into sleep on my sea of inner turmoil.


End file.
